


Sagittarius

by SunshineAndRainbows



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Centaur AU, Gen, Gladiator Shiro, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Arena, Worldbuilding, basically everythings the same except humans are centaurs now, canon pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, makes space life awkward, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineAndRainbows/pseuds/SunshineAndRainbows
Summary: “Humanity” had never existed, but when centaurs finally reached out to touch the edges of their solar system, they were in for a rude awakening all the sameInspired by tumblr user what-the-floofin ‘s incredible art of the paladins as centaurs





	1. The Arena

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING this chapter might be a little graphic; it covers Shiro’s time in the arena. I don’t think I went into *too* much detail, but if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing you might want to either skip this chapter or only read down to the line “and it was his turn to fight”  
>  This was inspired by what-the-floofin ‘s awesome art of the paladins as centaurs, go check it out!!!  
> http://what-the-floofin.tumblr.com/post/165722162126/youve-spoken-right-to-my-heart-my-soul-m-y  
> http://what-the-floofin.tumblr.com/post/165747708526/downtime-is-good-time  
> http://what-the-floofin.tumblr.com/post/165744363751/let-my-boys-be-boys  
>  Seriously check the art before you read bc I am writing like I assume you have. You wanna know why Shiro could hypothetically mess Matt up so badly it’s cuz Shiro is a draft horse and Matt (like Pidge) is technically a pony. The art will tell you these things, the narrative won’t. Also dang son you gotta see the feathering on shiro, when he walks I bet his legs are like a L’oreal hair commercial. downright luscious.

     Shiro hadn’t needed to use the sword to injure Matt enough to take his place. He used it anyways.

     They had been separated from Matt’s father, who had been sent to a work camp early on, and kept in a cell with a group of aliens. The others were all bipedal, and had been provided with black jumpsuits that covered them from their shoulders to their feet, as well as purple overshirts. Shiro and Matt had been given the same, but with the bottom halves of the black bodysuits hastily cut off—the edge still jagged and fraying. Evidently their captors hadn’t invented anything that would fit centaurs yet.

     The next… morning, Shiro guessed, they were assembled in a two-file line and escorted away. The Galra hadn’t told them where they were being taken, but they were able to figure it out.

     The armored, armed man in the middle of what could only be an arena was a significant clue.

     The thing is, a few solid kicks from Shiro could have shattered one of Matt’s legs—an injury that could take years to fully recover from. But Shiro’s attack was purely for show; he wanted Matt to look hurt, not actually be hurt. At least not badly, not permanently.

     Not that the Galra were to know that.

     So when the time came and the sentry gestured for Matt to step into the arena, Shiro surged forward and stole the sword from the guard, shouting bloodthirsty things as he whirled back. He slashed at Matt’s upper legs. A flesh wound—still crippling, still bad enough that he couldn’t fight—would probably scar, but it would heal. It would heal later, when he was safe and far, far from the arena.

     Not done, Shiro grabbed Matt by the shoulders and wrenched sideways, making them both topple to the ground in a veritable tangle of limbs. Once Shiro had Matt pinned to the ground, he risked softening only for an instant.

     “Take care of your father.”

     And it was his turn to fight.

 

* * *

 

 

     He was only almost as large as his opponent, which was… unsettling. Centaurs were some of the largest creatures on earth—of course they weren’t _the_ largest, but elephants and whales were hardly an everyday sight. Shiro had perhaps twice in his life seen an animal larger than himself in person. Even other centaurs tended to be at least a head shorter than him on average. So that this… _thing_ he was to fight was so massive—he was glad the Galra let him keep the sword.

     His foe fought with incredible force and a weapon unlike anything Shiro had ever seen. At first it was all he could do to keep moving, keep dodging. Avoid the orb. Avoid the gladiator. Use whatever little terrain advantage he could secure to stay alive, until he finally noticed the pattern. The noise as the orb returned to the staff. Three and rest. Three and rest. Three and rest.

     One. He felt the orb brush against the long hairs of his tail even as he launched himself away from the impact zone.

     Two. It flew wide as he started galloping around the perimeter of the arena, trying to get behind the monster. (Maybe it wouldn’t do him any good, but it was something to try until the staff had to recharge again.)

     Three. He narrowly managed to veer from his course as his enemy aimed a shot directly where he was about to be. The world exploded into a cloud of dust churned up by his hooves and the orb’s impact. He barely managed to keep his bearings as he chose a new course.

     He charged.

     He led with a slash to its weapon hand, the sword slicing through muscle and sinew and forcing it to drop the staff. He followed up by rearing up and grappling the monster to his chest with his front legs as he clubbed its head with the sword hilt.

     It stumbled backwards, forcing him to disengage lest he fall too. He turned tail to run—to put distance between them—but not before lashing out with his rear hooves. He felt a hoof connect with something, felt it give a little.

     He moved far out of his enemy’s grabbing range, kicking the staff away as he went, before he risked turning to look back.

     The gladiator was on its hands and knees, swaying hard and spitting out the teeth Shiro had kicked in. It struggled to stand, but only managed to get one foot back under it before it collapsed.

     Shiro couldn’t hold back a hysterical laugh. Hooves as large as dinner plates, mind as sharp as a tack, speed, endurance, and a sword? He survived. He wondered how long that was going to last.

 

* * *

 

 

     His second fight was the same as the first. An enemy much larger than him. Dodging. Using his environment. Fighting like Keith should have (but never did) when they play-sparred, like he’d never win a direct battle of strength, so he relied on speed and agility to get any hits in that he could. Finding an exploitable weakness. Exploiting it.

_Winning_.

 

* * *

 

 

     His third fight was against a smaller thing. Built like a whip, claws on its hands, claws on its feet, and endlessly, terrifyingly fast.

     Suddenly the tables had turned. Now he was the brunt force for the other to out-maneuver. Now _it_ was the one stalling until it could figure out his weakness.

     It found it.

     He lunged at it, already knowing it would dodge him easily. Instead it gabbed his arm and leveraged itself onto his back. It pinned his arms behind his back, and dug into his sides with its clawed feet.

     No.

     Oh _hell_ no.

     His mind became a mantra of _get off get off get off_ and he wasn’t even sure what sorts of acrobatics he was doing to enforce that intent—he knew at one point he had all four hooves off the ground, his spine twisting in a way he hadn’t done since he was a foal goofing off with friends. Even so, the roaring in his ears wasn’t loud enough to drown out the surrounding crowd’s screams and cheers. They were loving this. (He hated them for it.)

     Something he was doing worked, because he was able to wrench his arms back. Desperate not to fall, the thing on his back adjusted its grip to hold onto his withers by its claws. Then he was rearing almost perfectly upright and it was slowly slipping down the length of his back. Its front claws dragged through the flesh of his withers, leaving deep, bright red gouges in his black fur; its back claws scrambled for purchase against his hips. Snarl on his lips, he twisted around, grabbing the thing by its neck and throwing it to the ground beneath his hooves.

     It was the first person he killed.

 

* * *

 

 

     It wasn’t the last.


	2. Lions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--hoo boy howdy i'm kinda nervous about posting this; i'm usually a lot more meticulous in my editing. but uh, hey, here ya go  
> \--ok so I'm using canon pronouns for Pidge, that means he/him for now, but I’ll swap to she/her later.  
> \--Also I swear I will be switching PoVs, but for now we’re stickin with Shiro.
> 
> \--Also, thinkpiece, Pidge is a haflinger, and haflingers usually have flaxen manes/tails, but the art (which if you haven’t seen that yet you totally should go looooook, links in the first chapter) shows her with hair and a tail that matches her canon hair color. I am waffling between headcanons that either A: centaur society doesn’t have such strict lines for breed standards (and likely doesn’t have an actual concept of “different breeds”) which, reasonable, or B: part of Pidge’s ~clever disguise~ was to dye her hair and tail, and while they’re in space it’ll start to wash/grow out and she and Allura will be white hair buddies, which, rad

     Shiro made it back.

 

* * *

 

 

     The garrison wouldn’t listen.

 

* * *

 

 

     When Shiro awoke it was dark and he was on a bed. He didn’t know where he was, but Keith was dozing upright next to him, so he was able to rule out a few unsavory places.

     Whatever few rays of moonlight that snuck in through the window illuminated Keith’s pale skin and light coat. Every few seconds his head bobbed, but his knees stayed locked in place and he stayed asleep. At least, until Shiro shifted to try and climb off the bed and the rustling jolted him into alertness with a clatter of hooves on a hard concrete floor. It visibly took Keith a second to slot things together, but once he did he raised a finger to his lips and gestured sideways with his head.

     At first Shiro couldn’t discern the shapes in the darkness. He managed to make out what appeared to be two—no, three… possibly four? At least three centaurs sleeping in a pile in the corner, top halves draped across each other’s backs. There seemed to be some mats or something cushioning them from the hard floor, but it was too dark for Shiro to tell exactly what.

     Keith got his attention with a tap on the shoulder, and Shiro wasn’t sure what to make of the way his instincts screamed at the unexpected touch. He managed to suppress most of his flinch: enough to be classified as nothing more than mild surprise; enough that he didn’t _think_ Keith noticed.

     Keith pointed to a doorway, Shiro followed him outside.

     They were in a desert. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but every minute the blue moonlight was chased further and further away. Regardless of the growing blue of the sky, he could still just barely see the stars. With no landmarks for endless miles, the horizon was positively looming, especially now that Shiro knew what monsters hid behind it.

     Keith put a hand on his shoulder, and Shiro finally looked at him, actually _looked_. And Keith… Keith looked bad.

     Shiro knew Keith had never been one to waste time on vanity, or—sometimes—personal upkeep, but this was a new low. His fur coat was ragged and Shiro could swear he was seeing patches of old winter coat mixed in with his smooth summer coat. His ribs and hips had a definition to them that made Shiro wonder if he’d been eating. Keith may have always been on the lithe side, and had always looked halfway wild, but this was enough to have Shiro concerned. This was just unkempt.

     He knew he wasn’t much better. Wherever he had been, he’d built up a lot of muscle, and a lot of scars.

     And his arm was gone, for that matter.

     “It’s good to have you back”

     Keith’s voice was scratchy and weak. Shiro wondered how long he had gone without speaking. How Keith, always quiet until he was loud, had gotten assimilated into the dead silence of the desert.

     “It’s good to be back” so much better than he could ever express.

     “What happened out there? Where were you?”

     “I wish I could tell you.” A small, terrifying part of him was glad he couldn’t, “My head's still pretty scrambled. I was on an alien ship, but somehow I escaped. It's all a blur.”

     And so many questions to ask. Are you ok? How long was I gone? What have I missed? He finally settled on “How did you know to come save me when I crashed?”

     The rest would come.

     Keith hesitated, “You… should come see this.” He turned to go back inside.

     Shiro sent one last, lingering glance to the rising sun, and up at the horizon—still looming, but finally clear of stars. He followed Keith into the shack.

 

* * *

 

 

 

     The others were bitter to be woken up so early, one in particular—a Latino-looking boy with a dark brown fur coat in a swamp green jacket—was particularly antagonistic to Keith, rapid-fire complaining about his haircut, his house, the desert in general, and especially the early hour, before Keith could get a word in.

     “Shut up, Lance,” Keith snapped, “Shiro’s awake—”

     “Well why didn’t you say so, mullet?”

     “I was trying to!” Keith paused for a deep breath, and restarted. “Shiro’s awake and there’s something I need to show you guys.”

 

* * *

 

 

     The cork board, full of maps, photos, and all the evidence Keith had compiled, raised many more questions than it answered. But Shiro was finally introduced to the three who had helped Keith save him.

     There was Lance, the one who seemed to dislike Keith for reasons Shiro did not know. He pranced in place a couple steps in excitement when Shiro confirmed his name.

     There was Pidge, who was practically a pony, but—judging by his proportions—still had a little growing to do. He looked familiar, but Shiro was pretty sure they hadn’t met before.

     And finally Hunk, who was built solidly like Shiro, and, like Shiro, absolutely towered over Pidge. He also showed a considerable disregard to privacy, openly admitting to going through Pidge’s saddlebags and reading his diary.

     It was just as well that he did, and incredible that he was able to make the connection from a list of numbers to a Fraunhofer line and construct the wavelength chart… They finally had all the clues they needed to find Voltron before the Galra could.

 

* * *

 

 

     Between the old tech Keith had lying around and some of the less personal contents of Pidge’s saddlebags, Hunk was able to whip together his Voltron Geiger Counter in only a couple hours, but it was nearly noon by the time they got to the area in Keith’s picture.

     Keith walked ahead of the rest of them, picking his way over the rocks with practiced ease. He spared half a glance towards the sun, then faced his shadow directly below him with a considering stare.

     “We should get out of the sun soon.” Keith said, walking back to them, “It’s only gonna get hotter from here, and trust me, you don’t want to overheat.”

     “I'm getting a reading” Hunk stared at the indicator in his hand.

     He started walking away, seeming to barely pay any attention to where he was going. Pidge trotted along after him with the scanner dish. The signal led them to a cave, which Shiro was grateful for; the noonday sun was unforgiving against his black coat.

     Then Lance made the walls glow blue, and Shiro was only glad that no one was anything worse than bruised by the fall, and— _oh_.

     The Voltron was incredible. It was blue and lionoid and about the size of a house, and had a glowing blue force field wrapped around it. They all cautiously made their way towards it.

     “Does anyone else get the feeling this is staring at them?” Lance shifted into an oddly uptight-looking walk, taking short, quick steps, and drifting from side to side.

     “… No.” Shiro said, as Lance almost bumped into him.

     Keith got to the barrier first, poking at it experimentally. Lance tried knocking.

     Then they learned what Voltron _actually_ was, and that this lion, incredible as it was, was only a piece of it.

     Shiro would admit to spooking backwards when the lion suddenly animated on its own, and its mouth was suddenly far too close to them. His reaction, however, had nothing on Hunk and Pidge. The lion leaned in, there was a flurry of panicked motion that Shiro couldn’t make heads or tails of, and then suddenly they were both cowering behind him.

     Then the lion’s mouth opened, its lower lip becoming a ramp. Lance all but pranced forward, eager to explore.

     The rest of them followed at their own pace. By the time Shiro got into the cockpit Lance was already at the controls. It was cramped inside the cockpit, but even so it was undeniably incredible. The technology was blatantly far more advanced than anything Earth had yet to imagine, and right in the center of it all was…

     Well, it was…

     A…

     It looked almost like a seat, but the back was just ostentatious, and it was oriented wrong, _and_ the sides were squished so close together that not even a newborn foal would be small enough to lounge on it. Lance had completely ignored it, but Shiro was still puzzling over its function when the lion suddenly shot into the sky.

     He was glad that the mysterious object was there, if only for something to hang onto as they were thrown about the cockpit. He felt an enormous strain on his arms; they were never made to carry his full weight. He wasn’t sure what the others were holding onto, he just prayed that it would be enough that no one would break their legs. Or their skulls.

     They were thrown around for a long minute, until the lion broke out of Earth’s atmosphere. There was a moment of peace, only long enough for the dread to sink in when a colossal battleship appeared before them.

     “They found me.” Shiro’s voice was a horrified whisper.

 

     They fought.

 

     They fled.

 

     And then Earth was far, far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Ok so first of all, headcanon that centaur “chairs” are basically… you know how ancient Romans ate, sitting reclined on couches? So like a couch that the horse half curls up on, then one of the “arm” rests extends up to brace the upper body against for maximum relax-tatious leanin-times. So like literally a chaise lounge. Like google “chaise lounge” and imagine a centaur draped over that.  
> \--I'm still trying to figure out how to apply this concept to things that include safety harnesses… like spaceships… 
> 
> \--Now a few questions:  
> \--In-context, would it be weird to refer to their human-head-of-hair as their “mane”? They don’t have what we humans traditionally think of as “manes”, but referring to it as “hair” might not make sense seeing as they’re p much covered in hair? “Hair” might refer to the collective mane/tail & possibly coat, and use “mane” to refer specifically to head hair?  
> \--Shiro got a lock of his hair turned white during his time with the Galra. Do you think Centaur!Shiro would also have a lock of his tail hair turned?  
> \--Also, beforementioned dilemma: should Pidge have naturally flaxen hair bc haflinger but it’s dyed, or just don’t worry about it? Could be an interesting conversation: “pidge you are losing your color, are you unwell?” “hm? Oh, nah, the dye’s just washing out”  
> \--Would Pidge look weird as a platinum blonde? She might look very weird… Ok so I just did a bad MSpaint edit and it’s not bad I think… ok so I got a second opinion and yeah confirmed. Pidge does not actually look weird as platinum blonde. wild.


	3. Princesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the artwork that inspired this had some freaking beautiful Allura and Coran centaurs and I had to decide very hard whether to include them or nah. I eventually decided what I really wanted to do was explore the story of the universe not being designed for centaurs. Plus, idk, it’s cool to me, to have the aliens be alien… or in this case, the opposite I guess?
> 
> So yeah, remorsefully not gonna include them, but jeezy creezy go look at the art; it’s gorgeous!  
> http://what-the-floofin.tumblr.com/post/165849490661/wouldnt-miss-this-for-the-world
> 
> (i might in the future do some Au-ish stuff involving everyone being centaurs? but for now it's just gonna be humanity)

     The castle was beautiful and hauntingly empty, all teal blue and crisp black and white. The clicking of their hooves on the smooth, hard floors felt like it echoed for days. Lance felt a chill travel the full length of his spine.

     The castle woke up. It spoke to them.

     “Who are you? What do you want with us?” Shiro demanded.

     The castle didn’t respond beyond a single hallway lighting up.

     “I… guess we’re going that way?” Pidge said.

     A problem quickly arose.

     The very first lit hallway contained a staircase.

     The stairs themselves were short and close together, but not short enough to take them two at a time. They were altogether at exactly the wrong proportions to climb easily. After clipping his hooves on a ledge no less than five times on the first three steps, Lance resolved himself to taking it slow and watching where he put every hoof. The pace itself was almost familiar to the collected fino gait his mother had taught him, but ugh.

     Just. Ugh.

     Shiro and Hunk undoubtedly had it worse; their hooves were wider than the steps were.

     Pidge and Keith seemed unbothered though, both bounding up the staircase, ignoring the sharp clacks whenever they hit a ledge wrong. (And no, Lance did not feel totally vindicated when Keith almost stumbled. That would be petty… oh who was he kidding? He laughed out loud.)

     The first staircase conquered, they followed the lights through winding hallways and up and down staircase after staircase. Lance had never minded taking the stairs before, but before they’d been on earth and the stairs had always had reasonable proportions and padded with no-slip mats. Alien stairs didn't seem to have the same standards.

     Downstairs was far worse than up. Lance’s hearts almost stopped when one of his hooves slipped. He was lucky not to fall.

     Hunk was less lucky.

 

* * *

 

     By the end of their staircase journey, they found themselves in a round room with a recessed center and odd circular designs on the floor. Even as they were walking forward to investigate, one of the circles rose up to reveal some sort of container. Then another.

     Inside the first was a person, and she was beautiful, and she was… weird.

     And she was waking up.

     Lance pounced forward to catch her before she hit the ground.

     “Who are you? Where am I?”

     “I'm Lance, and you’re right here in my arms.” Flirting was, perhaps, a bad move, but despite her peculiar (lack of?) lower body, she was still beautiful, so hey, worth a shot.

     No.

     Nope, never mind, bad move.

     In one fell swoop she insulted his ears, pinned his arms, and buckled his front legs so that his knees banged against the hard ground.

     “My ears?” Lance protested, “What about _your_ legs? Do you even _have_ legs?”

     He actually couldn’t tell, with the way the fabric she wore cascaded all the way to the floor. She was obviously missing at least one set though. It was unnerving.

     “ _Of course_ I have legs!” she sounded confused and almost scandalized. Her expression changed as she took in the rest of them, “what… what _are_ you? No. Where is King Alfor?! What are you doing in my castle?” she demanded, her grip on Lance tightening painfully.

     “A giant blue lion brought us here! That's all we know!”

     “How do you have the Blue Lion? What happened to its paladin? What are you all doing here? Unless... How long has it been?” She abruptly released him.

     He took the opportunity to sidestep far out of her reach.

     “We don't know what you're talking about.” Shiro spoke calmly. Reasonably. “Why don't you tell us who you are? Maybe we can help.”

     The alien introduced herself as Princess Allura and walked to the center of the room to fiddle with a console that had risen out of the floor.

     At that point, the other pod opened. This one contained an older man who, like the princess, was also missing some half of his lower body. He woke up swinging though; he lunged at Lance—who startled away from the sudden movement—and missed entirely.

     “Quiznak!” he cursed (?), “You’re lucky I have a case of the old sleep chamber knees. Otherwise, I’d grab your head like this, wrap you up like so—and one, two, three… sleepy time.” he punctuated his speech with a baffling chain of gestures.

     “Well, before you did that, I'd—” Not to be outdone, Lance followed up with an elaborate sequence of steps and kicks that, if asked, he would totally deny being part of a dance routine he learned in middle school. It looked cool though. “Like that.”

     “Really? How could you do that when I've already come at you with this? HYA HYA HYA HYAA” the man shuffled forward with a series of sharp jabs.

     Allura interrupted with the name of the old man—Coran—and the news that they had been frozen for ten thousand years, and that their entire planet had been destroyed.

     Then Shiro revealed that the very same planet-killing monster was not only alive, but still actively conquering and destroying, searching for Voltron.

     “He's searching for it because he knows it's the only thing that can defeat him,” said a grim-faced Allura, “that's exactly why we must find it before he does.”

 

     They had so much work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALLURA:  
> >wake up  
> You wake up, stumbling forward. You are caught by someone significantly taller than you.  
> >kindly ask him WTF  
> He responds flirtatiously. You notice his ears are weird.  
> >insult them  
> You insult his ears. He asks if you have legs.  
> It’s gonna be a long day.


	4. Lions part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being like a thousand words longer than anticipated? oops.  
> I have the next chapter’s rough draft… happening? And it looks like it’s gonna be pretty short, so I guess everything evens out

     Keith did not appreciate being left behind while the others gathered the lions. Coran was bustling around, interacting with consoles, fixing things Keith couldn’t even identify, and fiddling with technology that blatantly surpassed anything he’d ever worked with on earth. The Princess stood at the command terminal, focusing on keeping the wormholes open and, presumably, searching for the red lion. Meanwhile, he stayed in a corner and tried to stay out of the way.

     No. no, he could… he could at least try.

     He walked up to Coran, “Is there anything I can help with?”

     Coran gave him a calculating stare, and Keith shifted awkwardly on his hooves in the long silence.

     “How are you for heavy lifting?”

      Keith… actually didn’t know how to answer that. To Earth’s standards, he had always been stronger than his thin frame would suggest, but he still had nothing on larger centaurs like Shiro or Hunk. But… Alteans were _tiny_. He easily had a head and shoulders on Coran—hell, Pidge was practically a pony and a yearling besides, and _he_ was probably a head and shoulders taller than Coran. What Keith considered _heavy lifting_ might be different from what Coran considered _heavy lifting._

     “I can try?” he offered.

     “We have a lot of things in storage that we’ll need to unpack if we want the castle in livable condition any time soon—” He gave Keith directions to a storage room and a com for him to give further instructions on what to do with whatever Keith found. Or to help if he got lost. Or for Coran to ask his endless questions about their species.

_What did they call themselves? What did they eat? How much did they eat? Did they have any noteworthy allergies? What was their planet called? Did centaurs have any natural predators? What were common illnesses and symptoms to look out for? What sort of ‘devices’ did they use in day-to-day life? How did they sleep? How long did they need to sleep? Were there any cultural taboos he should know about?_

     Keith knew… some of the answers, and whenever he admitted to not being sure, Coran just barreled on to the next question. It was draining, and he was relieved to get to the storage room, open the first container, and stop Coran’s questions to describe its contents so Coran could tell him what to do with it.

     It was tedious, though not particularly hard labor. Some of the crates were heavy or unwieldy enough that he struggled to lift them, but once he got them balanced on his back he had no problem carrying them. The hardest part was not losing his way in the uniform hallways, or not falling up or down the stairs.

     He had lived in the desert for a year. He had learned how to navigate featureless, hostile terrain. He could handle an alien castle.

     And he _could_ ; before long he was getting the hang of pathways between key rooms. Enough so that when Coran told him a container’s contents were medical supplies he was able to rattle off the directions to the infirmary without help. As long as he didn’t rush (too much) he didn’t even slip on the floors.

     About an hour or so later, Coran called him back to the bridge, saying that the green lion had just come through the wormhole. He slid the boxful of stuff he was carrying off his lower back and let it clatter down in the middle of the hallway. He all but ran through the halls—the way to the bridge long since memorized—but he still only got there moments before Shiro and Pidge arrived.

     They were soaking wet.

     “What… happened?”

     Shiro laughed and pulled him into a soppy hug.

     Keith held his newly damp shirt away from his body, giving Shiro a deadpan stare, but when Shiro only laughed louder—bright and happy in a way Keith had been afraid he’d never hear again—Keith couldn’t keep a soft smile off his face.

     “One of the locals offered to guide us,” Shiro explained, “but there was no way we’d fit in their boat, so we just followed along beside.”

     “It was mostly just wading,” Pidge said, “but there were a few deeper parts where we had to swim.”

     Keith’s tail twitched, “… fun.”

     “Careful Keith, your _desert-colt_ is showing,” Shiro teased, “you would have liked it though. It was… peaceful.”

     “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

     “The swimming was nice,” Pidge defended, “the part that was _actually_ not nice was when I had to climb a tree. Now _that_ took some doing.”

     Keith wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

 

* * *

 

     When Lance and Hunk finally returned, just barely in time, they seemed worse for wear. Lance’s hair was ruffled, mane to tail, and he was rubbing the place where his upper back met his withers. Hunk was limping slightly and covered in a layer of dust.

     “You made it!” Princess Allura smiled.

     They talked for a while, light and fun, until Shiro asked if they’d found the red lion yet.

     Then things took a dark turn. They learned the Galra ship was already upon them, ready to attack, and they couldn’t for the life of them—or the planet they were on—agree on a plan of action.

     Then Princess Allura and Coran disappeared for several minutes. When they reappeared Princess Allura had changed into some sort of flight suit, and was more determined than ever before.

     “So you _do_ have legs” Lance got out before Shiro silenced him with a look.

     Princess Allura gracefully ignored him.

     “You five paladins were brought here for a reason. The Voltron Lions are meant to be piloted by you and you alone.” Princess Allura declared, “We must fight and keep fighting until we defeat Zarkon. It is our destiny. Voltron is the universe's only hope. _We_ are the universe's only hope.”

 

* * *

     

     Princess Allura opened the doors to the room with a grand gesture.

     “Your suits of armo—oh…” she trailed off.

     The paladin armors were futuristic and efficient-looking, also charmingly color-coded to match the lions.

     They were also clearly, blatantly, designed to be worn by Princess Allura and Coran’s people, and decidedly not by centaurs.

     Pidge slowly walked up to the display case holding the green armor, each hoof beat echoing off the smooth walls. After a long, awkward, moment of silence, Pidge turned to face Allura, “This… isn’t gonna work, is it.”

     It was not a question.

     “Er… no. I imagine not…” Coran seemed embarrassed, then brightened considerably, “We have fabricators though! Just a bit of input and we’ll be able to figure something out!”

     “That’s good,” Keith said, “but not very helpful right now.”

     “Well, we can wear the upper body armor for now,” Shiro reasoned, “Do you have anything we can improvise for our lower bodies for now?”

     “I have just the thing!” Coran announced, “We used to have steeds on Altea that were shaped fairly similar to your lower halves. We can use some of that armor and some of the paladin armor!” He ran for the door.

     “Steeds? Wait, what is a ‘steeds’?” Hunk called after him, but Coran was long gone.

     Princess Allura sighed, “It's a term for tamed creature we would ride on.”

     “Ride on? Why would you ride on an _anima_ —” Lance glanced back to her legs, “oh. Ohhh, cuz you’re… ohhh, ok wow that’s actually pretty clever.”

     Princess Allura didn’t respond to Lance, though she looked like she rather wanted to. Instead she opened a display case of sorts. Four color-coded… _handles_ floated forward.

     “The bayard is the traditional weapon of the Paladins of Voltron. It takes a distinct shape for each paladin.”

     They each took the bayard that floated towards them. Once Keith had grabbed his red one, it glowed and morphed into a sword. He gave it a couple test swings. The way the handle was oriented was strange, but didn’t feel as unnatural as he was worried it might.

     Lance shrieked from over where he was bugging Pidge. Apparently, Pidge’s bayard was electrified.

     “—I guess I'll just have to make do.”

     Keith turned at the sound of Shiro’s voice. There wasn’t a bayard for him.

     None of them had full armor, and one of them was completely unarmed. Keith wasn’t about to back down from his assertion that they needed to fight, but he was starting to realize just how underprepared they were.

     Coran dashed back into the room, pushing some sort of hover cart, filled with a jumble of armor pieces. They were made from the same material as the paladin armor, but were, disappointingly, not color-coded. The plates were all primarily white with a few dark blue details.

     They needed help from the Alteans to make sense of some of the pieces; they were all designed for the Altean steeds, but some pieces were specific to the other creatures, like a headpiece that was reminiscent of a cow skull but flatter and with several extra eyeholes, or the interlocking plates—apparently for protecting long, twisting necks without losing mobility.

     And, of course, Alteans had never intended to take their steeds out into open space, so _none_ of it was pressurized.

     Hunk pulled out what Keith assumed had to be the main body piece. It had three main sections—one for the front of the chest, one for the middle and back, and one for the hindquarters—but they were all connected together rather than being disparate pieces. It probably went draped over the back, then fastened under the belly and in the front with… magnets? There weren’t any observable fastenings that Keith recognized.

     “So uhhh… what’s with these?” Hunk poked at what looked like handles.

     Keith walked over and examined the thing. The middle plate itself was shaped oddly, and it had several such handles. One extended upright on top near the front, close to the withers. Two sat sideways some foot or so behind the first, and on the sides two more extended from straps. He poked at the upright one near the front. The grip was comfortable and they were all, besides the two loose on straps, securely built in.

     “This is _armor_.” Keith furrowed his brow, “Why would you put so many handles on something you wear into battle? That _has_ to be a liability.”

     “Well, it’s like I said,” Allura shifted uncomfortably, “Alteans used to ride—”

     “Wait, you rode just, slung across the back?” Lance interrupted, “Like how parents carry their toddlers when they’re too tired to walk anymore? Not gonna lie, that’s kind of adorable.”

     “How—where else would we ride?”

     Lance deflated, “I dunno. I guess I wasn’t really thinking about it. Still.”

     “Actually, that _is_ kinda cute.”

     “ _Thank you_ , Hunk!”

     “Anyways,” Shiro interjected, “can we cut those off or something? It’s not—if someone—” he twitched, “—we don’t want our enemies to be able to exploit this.”

     “Of course!” Coran said, “Keith, you have the sword.”

     Keith got busy carefully cutting all the handles off as close to the actual armor as possible on the five different sets. The others got busy putting on what they could, with input from the Alteans.

     Shiro lay down at Keith’s side and tugged at his back leg. he had to lay down completely and bend down quite a bit to even reach. “Gimme your leg.”

     Not turning from his task, Keith shifted his weight off that hoof, letting Shiro manipulate it as he pleased. He seemed to wrap some sort of brace around Keith’s lower leg, then something more solid—but still flexible—on top of that.

     The first leg done, Shiro leaned under Keith’s belly and tugged at his other back leg. Keith let him.

     Keith finished altering the first piece. He shoved it towards where Pidge was kneeling, wrapping Hunk’s back legs while Hunk helped Lance make heads or tails of a black under-suit blanket. He started on the next set of handles.

     Shiro moved onto Keith’s front leg, this time Keith could see him apply what looked like a black polo wrap, then a plate of armor, to his lower leg. Keith was surprised at how flexible the Altean armor seemed to be. He wondered how well it blocked attacks.

     By the time Keith finished with the last armor, Shiro had long since finished with his legs. Pidge, Lance, and Hunk were fully dressed, paladin armor included, and were helping Shiro get his blanket lying straight and his lower body armor fastened.

     Keith threw his blanket over his back and fastened the front. He ducked forward between his front legs to fasten the blanket under his belly.

     Someone was already there.

     “Here. Straighten up,” Pidge said, “if you fasten it all hunched like that, it’ll bunch up and be super uncomfortable. We had to redo mine like three times.”

     Keith stood upright, a little stiffly. It was different to have someone other than Shiro in his space like this, not bad, certainly, but different.

     “It’s better if you go ahead and get the paladin-armor undersuit on now too. Coran and Allura already cut off the legs.”

     Once Keith had gotten the skintight undersuit pulled over his torso, Pidge slung the bodyplate over his back and started fiddling with the alien fastening system. Keith went ahead and started pulling on the plates of the paladin armor.

 

* * *

 

     “alri-hi-hight!” Lance cheered, “We are _looking good_!”

     Keith shifted a little, feeling out the armor. It did feel good: flexible, yet solid.

     As for _looking_ good… well… they looked as good as could be expected for makeshift, heavily-altered armor. Keith didn’t really see any point in being more generous than that.

     “These suits are not pressurized. Given some time, we will be able to design and fabricate more functional armors, but that will have to wait until this threat is dealt with.” Allura warned, “These suits will protect you in a fight, but they won’t protect you from open space. Please, be careful. The fate of the universe depends on you.”

     “All right.” Shiro nodded, “Here's our plan of attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desert-colt, similar connotation to “country-girl” or “city-slicker.” Just an indication of “hey you are from this general location and it shows in your mannerisms”  
> Desert-colt Keith does not like to swim.
> 
> as for armor:  
> -so in canon the paladin armor are those black undersuits with the armored plates pulled over top (you can actually see in ep 1 the armor-up montage includes keith pulling on the chestplate, that combined with how Hunk's armor actually fits implies to me that the plates themselves are very flexible) the "horse" armor is similar (did alteans literally have horses? probably not, but ngl the thought amuses me) but with more fastening points to account for a potentially less-than-cooperative animal that wouldn't appreciate pulling everything on over the head.  
> -so, pieces,  
> -first on is the under-armor. its all the same black fabric, which i do assume has protective properties. for the human-half it's literally the paladin armor undersuit, for the horse-half there's a blanket, like google "horse blanket". that, but slightly more fitted. then polo wraps on the legs.  
> -next layer is the actual plates of armor. they've got the normal paladin armor from the belt-up  
> as for the horse-half... funfacts the wikipedia article on "barding" is a good read haha. colors are mainly white with some navy blue, like we see on the AU alteans  
> -they don't need "Chanfrons" or "Criniere" (made for protecting horse heads and necks, respectively) because they don't have horse heads or necks, respectively  
> -the "Croupiere" (for protecting horse butts), the "Flanchard" (which goes connected to a saddle but in this case is combined with said saddle), and the "Peytral" (chestpiece) are somewhat combined. not into a single solid plate, but the three distinct plates are connected so they all go on at once  
> -i added on a small plate like a shin guard to go over the polo wraps. that's not traditional on earth bc an inflexible plate would probably hurt a horse's legs, but since Altean armor seems to be flexible i figured the extra protection on their legs could only be a good thing


End file.
